


Home for the Summer

by TheLonelyJournalKeeper



Series: Ni No Kuni Hogwarts AU [6]
Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch, Ni no Kuni
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Issues, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Genderqueer Character, If You Squint - Freeform, Kissing, Love Confessions, Meeting the Parents, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Summer Vacation, Work In Progress, or parent in this case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyJournalKeeper/pseuds/TheLonelyJournalKeeper
Summary: It's the end of another year at Hogwarts and Swaine is not looking forward to returning home. Fortunately, he has a plan to make things considerably more bearable.





	1. A Deal

Swaine was not looking forward to returning home for the summer. The rest of the school was in the usual high end-of-the-year spirits, discussing where they would be going and what they would be doing with all the free time. Oliver seemed excited to be returning to Motorville and seeing his friend, Philip, and guardian, Drippy, again. Esther told Swaine about her plans—spending time with her father, eating babanas, and playing with her pets. She’d only been allowed to bring one—her owl, Gogo—with her to Hogwarts, and she had at least two more at home from what Swaine had heard. 

Even Marcassin seemed keen to have some time off though Swaine hadn’t the faintest what was planning to do with it. 

But Swaine wasn’t feeling it. Sure, he’d welcome the break from studying, but overall this had been a great year for him. The last few months in particular he’d really enjoyed.

Yeah, going out with Esther was really nice. Not that he was going to _say_ that, but he was definitely thinking it.

Home however had nothing to offer him. Just his brother, his father, and dozens of cold, lifeless rooms. And Swaine could see Marcassin around Hogwarts if he wanted to.

Lord knew that his father and the old mansion didn’t appeal to him. His summer was sure to be dull at best. At worst…well, he tried not to think about that. It tended to make him gnash his teeth so much that someone took notice and then he didn’t have a good explanation for them when they asked what was wrong. 

In any case, he planned to enjoy the last few days he had with Esther before they left for the summer. He was glad she would have a nice time back home, but he’d miss her. There wasn’t a lot in the way of company at the manor.

He was still brooding on this by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into King’s Cross station.

“Hey,” Esther poked him, smiling slight. “Promise me you’ll write?” 

He responded with a half-smile. “Yeah, ‘course I will. It’s not like I’ll have much else to do.”

“You’ll be alright, won’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“N-no reason,” Esther said quickly. “I’m not saying I didn’t think you would be alright. Just..make sure it stays that way, okay?”

“Heh, sure thing.” He thought he knew what she was getting at. He paused as he came to a decision. 

“Tell you what,” Swaine said. “How about you come visit this summer.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean at your manor?”

“It’s not really mine, but yeah. If you want.” Swaine tried to sound nonchalant.

“Would your father be okay with that?”

Swaine shrugged. “Probably not. All the more reason you should. Besides, I’ll go mad with only Marcassin for company. What do you say?”

Esther laughed. “I would like that, Swaine.” 

“Oh, yeah? Good. Good,” Swaine said in relief. 

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon,” she smiled and skipped off to find her father in the throngs of parents on the platform.

He watched her go and went to go find Marcassin. Their father would probably be waiting in the parking lot. 

* * *

Swaine was going stir-crazy. He was six weeks into the summer holiday and by far the most interesting thing that had happened was the week-long argument he’d had with his father. He actually suspected Marcassin had gotten the worst end of this deal as he’d been forced to play mediator.

Regardless, he was going to lose it if he had to spent another six weeks here with nothing to do.

Fortunately, one other thing of interest had happened. He’d been exchanging letters with Esther. These letters, along with the few he’d received from Oliver, had in fact been the highlight of his summer so far.

That could be about to change however. There was only one obstacle. His father, of course.

If Esther was going to visit, he’d have to run it by his father first. He didn’t know how he was going to manage that. It wasn’t like the man was particularly easy to talk to in the best of circumstances.

But Swaine was willing to give it a shot. To do otherwise would be like…admitting defeat, surrendering, and Swaine wasn’t prepared to do that.

Even though willingly initiating a conversation with his father wasn’t a thrilling prospect.

He decided to wait until he had a good opportunity so he could make it appear natural.

“Er…Father, so I was wondering if I could have someone from school over for a bit since we’re on break.”

To Swaine’s relief, his father did not reject the proposition outright. “You’ve never asked to invite anyone over before.” 

“Yeah, so?” Swaine said, more aggressively than he’d intended.

His father looked amused. “Nothing, nothing.”

Swaine noticed his hands had clenched into fists and forced himself to relax.

“Who is it, Gascon?”

“Er—may have mentioned her before. Her name’s Esther.” Swaine honestly had no idea whether he’d mentioned Esther before, but presumably he had. Even before they’d started dating, she’d been one of his few close friends.

“Esther…” his father mused. “Isn’t she Rashaad’s daughter?” 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Swaine had a pretty good idea why this was of interest to him. Rashaad was very well-respected within the wizarding community. He was an extraordinarily powerful wizard from a line of purebloods. Naturally this mattered to Swaine’s father as the same could be said of him.

He sent Swaine a brief, piercing look. “Are you close with this girl?”

Swaine crossed his arms. “Well, we _are_ dating.”

His father let out a bark of laughter. “Really now? I wasn’t aware of this. You do value your secrets, Gascon.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you just didn’t bother to ask.”

“What exactly are you accusing me of now?” His father rolled his eyes.

Swaine bit his tongue, remembering that he was trying to get his father to agree to something. “N-nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”

“Still, congratulations are in order. It’s about time after all,” he said with a laugh that was meant to be good-natured and completely missed the mark. “You’re how many years old now?”

“I’m seventeen!” Swaine said indignantly. He resisted the urge to add, _You got me that shitty watch, remember?_ The watch had in fact been of the highest quality and it was no doubt incredibly expensive, but Swaine didn’t like it at all. It was flashy and pretentious and he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it.

“Yes, I know. You’re a man then.”

“I’m of age, yeah.” Swaine was wishing this conversation was over already.

“You’re going to have to make your own way soon. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Swaine gritted his teeth. “Well, I’ve done alright so far.”

“Hm…perhaps,” he said. “In any case, I have a deal for you.”

Swaine was filled with an unnecessary amount of apprehension. “Alright. What is it?”

“I’ll grant your request, but you have to do something for me in return. That’s fair, don’t you think?”

“That depends. What do you want me to do?”

“Your Transfiguration and Charms marks were less than satisfactory last year. That is to say, all of your grades were, but those in particular stood out to me. Do better next year. I expect at least an E.”

Swaine felt a bit like he’d been sucker-punched. “A-an E?” he stammered. Those were his weak subjects. Maybe he could’ve managed it for Defense Against the Dark Arts or Potions or something, but for these two…It was going to be tricky to say the least. If not outright impossible. His previous grades didn’t merit speaking of. 

His father rolled his eyes. “Yes, Gascon. An _E_. I wouldn’t expect an O from you, but surely you can manage an _E_.”

Swaine swallowed hard and set his jaw. That settled it. He needed to see Esther to make up for this goddamn mess of a conversation. “Alright, I’ll do it. Deal,” he said before he could stop himself.

They shook on it. Swaine withdrew his hand as quickly as he could and half-turned for the door. “Well…thanks, Father. I’ll be going now.”

“Mm, yes. Go.” 

Swaine paused with his hand on the door handle when his father spoke again. “Gascon.”

“Yeah?”

“I look forward to meeting Miss Esther.” 


	2. Introductions

The first thing Esther saw when she stepped out of the flames was Swaine leaning against the wall. He’d been waiting for her.

She smiled, brushing soot off her clothes, and darted towards him. He grinned back, straightening. 

“Hey,” he said, catching her in his arms. “It’s been a while. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she said. They’d been exchanging letters, of course, but it had been nearly two months since they’d met in person. It was good to see him again. 

“You look different,” she said teasingly. “It’s strange to see you outside of school. What have you done to your face?” She rubbed a hand over his cheek which was soft and smooth except for a few razor nicks and not at all like she was used to. 

“What do you mean?” he said indignantly. “It’s exactly the same as the last time you saw me!” 

“No, it’s not,” she chided. “You’re clean-shaven.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he remembered. Swaine shrugged. “The old man nags me if I forget. Says I look ‘unkempt’.” 

Esther laughed softly and looked him over. It was summer so of course he wasn’t wearing his school robes, but it still surprised her. He was wearing neat clothes with a red jacket and he looked nice, but Esther couldn’t imagine him picking them out himself.

“Oi,” he said. “Forget about me. What are you _wearing_?”

She laughed again and looked down at herself. She’d been home mere minutes before so she was still dressed for a warm climate in light clothes of pink and purple. Loose pants. Crop top. Good for dancing which was how she’d spent many hours of her summer thus far. 

“It’s what everyone wears back home,” she said. “Do you like it?” 

“Er—yeah, it’s alright,” he smirked and kissed her.

She stood up on tiptoes and reciprocated, fiddling with the collar of his jacket playfully. She’d missed this. 

She leaned back after a moment, eyes twinkling, and glanced at the door way. She thought she’d heard someone.

Sure enough, Marcassin appeared in the doorway. He looked nearly the same as she remembered him though his robes were deep purple. 

Swaine hastily pulled away from Esther.

“Oh hello, Marcassin,” she said. 

“Hello Esther,” he said, inclining his head by way of greeting. He blinked long eyelashes at them, somewhat bemused. “I heard that you would be arriving today. It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” she said with an easy smile. “Is that mascara?”

“No,” he said, raising a hand to his eye and then passing it off as brushing his hair back.

“Yeah, it is,” Swaine told her. “Pretty boy here can get away with make-up, but I can’t even get away with forgetting to shave. How’s that for favoritism?” 

Marcassin laughed weakly.

“Well, it looks good, Marcassin,” Esther said, squeezing Swaine’s hand. 

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Yeah, s’pose it suits him. Anyway, Father said he wanted to meet you when you arrived so we should probably get that over with.”

“He was in his study, last I saw him,” Marcassin said.

“Right. Thanks. That gives me five minutes to think of what to say while we walk there.”

* * *

Esther was apprehensive about meeting Swaine’s father. Technically, she’d met him before, but he’d never met her. Her stint in the pensieve had been entirely one-way. One might think she would feel less apprehensive having seen him before and having gotten some idea of his personality, but this was far from the case. Having some idea what he was like, Esther was much more reluctant to meet him.

She focused on looking around the manor instead. It was interesting to look at that was for sure.

“Alright, here we are,” Swaine said, stopping in front of a shut door. “I’ll knock, shall I?” 

“Please.”

He did, rapping on it sharply, and shoved his hands into his pockets.

After a moment, a curt voice came from beyond the door. “Come in.” 

Swaine looked at Esther briefly, his expression inscrutable. She nodded at him, trying to look reassuring, and he pushed open the door. He swaggered inside and Esther followed.

The room was much as she’d expected. Rich carpet on the floor. Heavy wooden shelves housed thick tomes and strange artifacts. The windows along the far wall were covered by impenetrable curtains, but the room was well lit by a series of lamps. A few chairs were set about the room, but the focus of scene was a large dark oak desk covered by papers. A grand chair like a throne rested behind it and a man sat in that. 

He was older than last Esther saw him, but she recognized him instantly. He had Swaine’s coloration, but a bearing of authority more similar to Marcassin though harsher somehow. She supposed he was handsome, but mostly he was intimidating. 

Swaine’s father of course.

He looked up from his work when they entered and rose to his full height. “You must be Miss Esther,” he said, fixing his gaze on her. 

She got the sense she was being appraised so she lifted her chin. She wouldn’t give him anything to disapprove of then. “Yes,” she said. “You must be Gascon’s father. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” He offered her a hand, and she shook it. 

Swaine watched them intently, hands still in his pockets. He was being uncharacteristically quiet, Esther thought. 

“Your home is beautiful,” she said. “Thank you for allowing me to visit.” 

“Hmmph. It is no matter. We do not often have guests. It should make for an…interesting change of pace.” 

“Oh. I see.” Whatever that meant. She wondered if he was getting something out of this. 

“Right,” said Swaine briskly, speaking up for the first time. “Now that introductions are out of the way, shall we be going?” 

His father’s gaze flickered to him. “Yes, yes. Be gone. Stay out of trouble.”

“Great.” Swaine grabbed Esther’s hand and pulled her out of the room. The door thudded shut after them. 

Esther let out a puff of air. “Well, that went alright, don’t you think?” 

Swaine glanced at her as they walked off, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I s’pose it did.” 


	3. Footsteps

Footsteps. Swaine could hear them easily. He was attuned to the sound of people approaching due to years of practice. Illicit activities that required no one happen upon him or just a general desire not to be around people. 

More like one person in particular. There were several people he was happy to be around. Like the beautiful Gryffindor girl he was in the midst of a rousing debate with. (He’d long since lost track of what the debate was actually about. He was just enjoying it at this point.) Though as far as Swaine knew he was nowhere in the area, Oliver’s company wouldn’t be amiss either. Swaine wouldn’t even mind if the footsteps from the hallway belonged to Marcassin. Hell, that would make sense. Marcassin was home for the summer just like Swaine.

Unfortunately, he’d almost mastered the art of recognizing _certain people’s_ footsteps. These were not Marcassin’s light, stately steps. These footsteps were a loud, powerful _march_. 

Swaine cursed quietly. “God damn it!” 

Esther broke off in the middle of what was sure to be an incredibly witty reply. “Swaine? What is it?” 

“Shush!” he hissed, looking about the room frantically. “Help me hide!” Normally, this too was his forte, but he was not at his best at the moment. He’d been off his guard, focused solely on Esther. It was a miracle he’d heard the footsteps at all.

Fortunately, Esther was as quick-witted as she was beautiful. “Here!” she said, instinctively lowering her voice and gesturing to a huge, dark oak cabinet in the corner of the room.

Unfortunately, Swaine spotted a problem. “Are you mad? That’s a vanishing cabinet!” 

She crossed her arms, scowling at him. “Then leave the door ajar!”

He grinned. “Oh, right. Nice one.”

Then he ducked inside, swinging the door not quite shut. He wondered why he hadn’t tried this one before, but he’d always been told not to touch the vanishing cabinet that stood in the corner of the eastern drawing room. Not that that would necessarily stop him. He just didn’t typically spend a lot of time in this room. He found it kind of stuffy with all its stately tapestries and solid oak furniture and little magical trinkets that he couldn’t get to work half the time which was doubly annoying because the magic was _right there_ , already inside them and everything.

Which was why he’d figured no one would bother them there.

In any case, the cabinet did not whisk him off to who-knows-where. Instead, he heard the sound of the drawing room door swinging open and the footsteps pause.

“Hello there, sir,” Esther said in a voice that was perfectly modulated to sound polite and relaxed.

“Miss Esther,” said his father. Swaine pictured a polite nod of the head. “Have you seen Gascon by any chance? He _is_ the one who invited you here.”

“Oh, um, I’m afraid I haven’t,” Esther lied. “In fact, I was just looking for him. Perhaps Marcassin has seen him? I think Sw—Gascon said he wanted a word with him.” 

“Did he now? What about, I wonder…”

“He didn’t say.”

“Of course he didn’t. Very well. I shall continue my search, and when I find him, I’ll remind him that abandoning your guest is not very good host etiquette.”

Esther laughed feebly. Swaine rolled his eyes.

“Carry on then,” his father said and Swaine heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of retreating footsteps. The door to the vanishing cabinet creaked open and Swaine stepped back onto the floor of the drawing room.

Esther was standing nearby with her hands on her hips. “Would you mind telling me what that was all about? I don’t like having to lie to your father.”

“You’re good at it though,” Swaine said, smirking. “You handled that very well.”

She rolled her eyes. “Swaine! I’m serious!”

“Well, so am I.” 

Her arms went slack at her sides. “So why did you feel the need to hide in the vanishing cabinet when you heard your father coming?” 

“To be fair, the vanishing cabinet was your idea,” Swaine pointed out. Esther’s lips pursed in annoyance and he hurriedly went on. “I just…didn’t want to have to deal with him today. Yeah.”

Her lips twitched. “Is that so, Swaine? And why is that?”

He smirked. “Well…you’re here. There’s things I’d rather be doing than having another shouting match with my dad. And I don’t think you’d particularly want to see that either.”

She laughed. “You’re right—I wouldn’t.” She moved closer to him and he entertained the idea of kissing her—the idea of kissing Esther in his father’s dusty old drawing room had great appeal he had to admit—except that there was a question still on her lips despite the gleam in her eyes.

“Your father was looking for you,” she said. “What do you think he wanted?”

That made him draw up short. “Erm, dunno. He always wants some thing or other. Probably just had something he wanted to complain about.”

She smirked. “Aren’t thieves supposed to be good liars?”

“I’m not a thief!” he protested. “Well…not anymore.” 

“What did you do, Swaine?” she needled.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Erm, I might’ve made a deal with my dad in order for him to let you visit.”

She frowned, biting her lip. “What sort of deal?”

“Nothing too terrible,” Swaine said hurriedly. 

“Then what is it?”

“Well, erm…” It wasn’t too terrible, but he wasn’t very keen to admit it mostly because it sounded a lot easier than he thought it was going to prove to be. “He wants me to get at least an E in Transfiguration and Charms this year.” 

Esther’s expression momentarily cleared then it darkened again. “What did you get in Transfiguration and Charms last year?”

Swaine stammered. “Well, um, that’s not really—Do I have to say?”

She sighed in exasperation, but she was smiling. “You know Marcassin could probably help with that if you asked him.”

“Oi! I’m not going to Marcassin for help!” Swaine said indignantly. “I manage just fine on my own, thanks!”

“Of course you can,” she said, smile still toying with her lips. “Well, never mind all that, Swaine. We can worry about your stubborn refusal to get help later.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What do you think we should do instead?” 

Exactly what he’d been thinking as it turned out. She stepped forward, leaned up on tiptoe, and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck with the growing ease of practice.

“Heh, it’s like you read my mind,” he murmured.


	4. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths"_

It was an uncommonly nice day. Even in the middle of summer, the sky was usually overcast and grey, the heat somewhat muggy and oppressive, but today the clouds had parted, a pale blue sky peeked through, and the sun shone down warm and clear over the grounds of the manor house.

But best of all, Swaine’s father had gone into town for some reason or another and taken Marcassin with him so Swaine and Esther had the afternoon to themselves. It would be some time before they returned and so Esther, noting how nice the weather was, suggested that they spend it outside. 

Swaine, who was getting fed up with the cold and labyrinthine interior of the house, was happy to oblige her. Having spent a good amount of his childhood wandering around the grounds of the manor, he knew all of the best spots to while away an afternoon. 

He led her to a sequestered corner of the grounds where the grass grew long and a tall oak tree stretched high over head. It was the kind of place where one could remain undisturbed for hours which was what he loved about it. 

And it was precisely what he intended to do. He sat down beneath the tree and leaned back onto the grass. A slight breeze rippled through the brush, not strong enough to chill the air but just enough to give the scenery some life as the branches of the tree swayed above them. 

“Wow,” Esther said gently. “It’s a beautiful day.” 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I s’pose it is,” he said absently.  He turned on his side to look at her. “It’s usually not this nice out. Normally the weather’s a lot more gray. You can hardly see the sun.” 

“Oh, really?” she said, settling down in the grass beside him. “Back home, you can hardly ever  _not_  see the sun. Even the days are longer and the sky is almost always cloudless.”   
“Sounds hot.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s hot. It’s a desert. But at night time, it’s freezing.”

“You’re not really selling me on your hometown. Boiling hot  _and_  freezing?” 

“At least there’s sunlight,” she said, nudging him. “And it’s never cold during the day and at night you can see all the stars and when the sun hits the dunes they look like they’re made of gold dust and we have dancing competitions during the summer and of course there’s what we’re known for—babanas.” 

That sounded vaguely familiar to Swaine and he half-smiled at her. “Yeah, that sounds pretty alright, but what’s so great about babanas?” 

She laughed, rolling her eyes again. “Do you really want a history lesson now?”

“Nah,” he said, still grinning crookedly. 

“I didn’t think so,” she said and kissed him firmly on the mouth. 

Swaine loved how casual it was. He loved that he saw it coming a moment before she did it and wasn’t surprised. He loved how he could meet her halfway and respond to her kiss instantly and that it still felt just as magical and electric as the first time. 

He kissed her slowly, drawing out the sensation as one of his hands slid up to stroke her shimmering, golden hair. She hummed against him. Her lips were so soft; her taste was so sweet. 

He drew back an infinitesimal amount. Just enough so he could breathe. Just enough so he could whisper. “I think,” he murmured, eyes half-closed, “I might be in love with you.” 

“Oh?” she breathed. “That’s lucky.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Because I’m almost certainly in love with you,” she said as she closed the gap between them once more. 


End file.
